The Will of the Fates
by blue-eyed-beauty2012
Summary: The night of Arthur Pendragon's birth, Lord Protector Uther Pendragon's wife Igraine dies. His old lover and mother of his firstborn daughter, takes matters of succession into her own hands. Only the sorcerer Merlin knows of her treachery, and only he can stop Lady Vivian's plans for the throne of England. (An AU Merlin Short Story)


The stars twinkled in the otherwise black sky. There was no moon. Vivian nervously ran her fingers through her sleeping daughter's hair. No moon was never a good sign for sorcerers. The moon's glow fed Vivian's power, and she had prayed and prayed for a full moon on this accursed night. Her plea had not been heard. The whore was giving birth, and Vivian was nearly powerless to stop it.

Morgana stirred beneath Vivian's head as Igraine's wailing pierced the night once again. Vivian's dark eyes welled up as she held her daughter. What would become of her? Would she be cast aside, just as Vivian had been?

Vivian shook her head. Uther loved her. He always had, no matter who his wife was. No matter how many children that little wench gave him, Uther's heart would always be Vivian's... Wouldn't it?

"Uther will always love me," Vivian whispered, kissing Morgana's face. "Your father will always love us."

Although Vivian's promises made Morgana smile while she dreamt, they sounded hollow and unconvincing to Vivian's ears. She'd said the same words every day for a full two years, since the day of Morgana's birth, but they rang emptier and emptier every day.

Refusing to dwell on Uther anymore, Vivian turned her attention toward her precious girl. She gently eased Morgana under the covers of her soft bed, smoothing her voluminous black curls. Vivian's own locks brushed Morgana's pale face. Vivian knew that she should retire for the night, but Igraine's cries, now joined by Uther's and several others', fixed her to her daughter's side. Vivian's sweaty palms squeezed Morgana's small hand, drawing comfort from the child's innocent peace.

"You must do something!" Uther wailed from outside in the hall. He sounded more pained than Igraine.

"We are doing all that we can, my lord..."

"Not you, fools! YOU! Why aren't YOU doing anything?!"

"Uther, you know that I cannot change the Fates." Merlin's voice... Vivian clenched her fists. She hadn't known that he had returned... "I can only see what is intended, and try to assist the best future to come to pass."

"What does that even mean, Merlin?!"

Even though Vivian couldn't see the sorcerer, she knew that he was shaking his head at Uther's hardheadedness. Merlin lost patience with Uther often.

"It means that my power over such matters as life and death are not truly mine to control. As a seer, I have been given the ability to see what will be and what should be. I must always take the path of the better good for all."

"Then save her! How can Igraine's life not be the better choice for all?! She is kind and good, and our child needs her!"

So, the whelp lived... Vivian's stomach turned and twisted. "Be a daughter," Vivian begged to no one in particular. "Be a sickly, weak daughter..."

"Your child needs to live!" Merlin raised his voice for the first time that evening. "If I save your wife, you lose the babe. One life for another, Uther. You know this!"

"I don't care!" Uther sobbed. "I can't... lose her!" Vivian heard as the mighty Uther Pendragon, Lord Protector of all England, fell to his knees in grief. "Igraine..."

There were no more words that Vivian could make out over Uther's sobs. Vivian just sat on Morgana's bed, tears streaming down her cheeks, repeating her desire over and over again. "Let it be a daughter... Let it be an ill, dying creature..."

And then it stopped. Uther's sobs ceased. But the ladies' cries began. And Vivian knew- Igraine was dead. Uther had decided to save the child, and sacrifice Igraine. Which could only mean one thing: Igraine's child was a boy. Uther had a legitimate son, an heir to his fortune and honored position of Lord Protector.

Vivian's tears dried instantly. An icy resolve settled in her stomach. What had happened to her would not happen to Morgana. Vivian would not allow Uther to hide Morgana away, his true heir, like he had when his advisors discovered that Vivian was not a "virtuous" woman. All it took was one swift ultimatum from his parents for Uther to realize that Vivian was inappropriate for marriage. All it took to make Uther forget all the kisses and love he and Vivian had shared since they were children was the royal physician's announcement that Vivian was with child- Uther's child.

However, Vivian remembered bitterly, Uther had been man enough to permit Vivian and Morgana to live in the castle with him and, after his father was killed three months after Morgana's conception, Uther's new wife Igraine. Morgana had been, even though illegitimate, Uther's proclaimed and uncontested heir to his fortune, but not his title. But now, thanks to the squealing brat down the hallway, Morgana would have nothing. She would fade into the shadows, just as Vivian had.

Only she wouldn't disappear. Morgana had too great a destiny. Already at two years of age, Morgana was more powerful than Vivian. Morgana was like Merlin- a natural sorcerer. Born with magic... Such a gift could not be contested, especially not by an ordinary baby boy... Vivian would never allow the boy to become anything but ordinary, no matter his destiny. Merlin couldn't stop her. Uther couldn't stop her. Not even the mighty Fates could stop her.

This Lady Vivian, the once beloved sorceress of Lord Uther Pendragon, swore to the absent moon...

Three days after the death of Uther Pendragon's young wife, the small Pendragon babe disappeared. He was taken from his nursery during the night, his nursemaid found dead in the empty chamber. The next morning one of the knights of Camelot found the child dead on one of the rocks below the nursery window. Uther buried his wife and only son together outside of the city in the Pendragon tombs. All of Camelot mourned the devastating loss. All but two...

Merlin stood back from the noble mourners. They all sickened him. All of this sickened him- the black veils, the mournful ballads, the tears, the grieving emptiness in Uther's eyes, and the bitter anguish in Igraine's older brother Agravaine's... But nothing nauseated Merlin more than her. She knew. Vivian knew that the child that Uther buried and mourned wasn't his son. This whole seedy business reeked of Vivian...

For the first time since Merlin had met Vivian, he wished he had never trained her. He had been so taken with the idea of tutoring someone in sorcery that he hadn't thoroughly considered his prospective pupil. Vivian had always allowed her heart to rule her powers- very dangerous for a sorcerer, but particularly for one of Vivian's standing. She was the mother of the Lord Protector's firstborn child, and, like Merlin had always secretly feared, she had misused her powers for her own ends. Merlin knew, even if he couldn't prove it, that Vivian had "disposed" of Uther's boy. And there she was, huddled amongst the mourners surrounding Uther, her nearness only rivaled by Agravaine's and Morgana's. She stood proud and tall, her long and pale fingers gripping Morgana's shoulder tightly. Merlin couldn't see Vivian's face through the black mourning veil, but when she cocked her head towards him, Merlin just knew that the witch was smiling, gloating in her secret triumph.

Merlin's eyes narrowed. He felt the magic within him lapping and dancing like a flame. He would find out where the child truly was. Vivian would tell him where she had taken the boy, even if he had to torture the information out of her. He would wring her thin neck with his own two hands for using the skills he had taught her to harm an innocent baby.

The sorcerer had nearly worked out the details of his plot against Vivian inside his head when Uther's daughter met Merlin's gaze with her large, shining, emerald eyes- the Pendragon eyes. He suddenly couldn't breathe. He felt as though he had been abruptly doused with icy water, and thrown into a blazing inferno at the same time. In that moment, Merlin saw himself in Morgana's eyes. And even though she was only two years of age, Merlin could sense that Morgana had seen herself in him.

"_Wait, Merlin_," the Fates whispered.

The air around Merlin grew hazy and everything slowly froze until none were aware except for Merlin and the tall, willowy woman beside him. She spoke with the sound of many voices, echoes from her past forms.

"But, the boy..."

"_Will be safe_." Merlin felt a rush of euphoria as the rosy hand of the Fates rested upon his arm. "_You know this_."

"I have seen nothing of the boy's future... He does not even yet have a name!"

"_Trust not your eyes, Merlin_," the Fates brushed Merlin's temples- his _eyes_, "_but trust your heart_." The Fates' arm gestured down the hill toward the church in the middle of Camelot- the church with the yard that held the Sword. Merlin's mind flashed back to the day that he had spelled the Sword into the smooth Stone in the churchyard.

"So long ago..." Merlin sighed wistfully, drifting away to another time...

"_Yes_," the Fates whispered. Merlin started. He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud. But then, maybe he hadn't. The Fates could read him and truly understand him better than anyone else. Except, perhaps, little Lady Morgana... "_Yes, it was long ago_," the Fates continued, as though she hadn't heard Merlin's reverie about the young sorceress, even though he knew she had, "_the day you placed the Sword in the Stone_."

"I did not do the deed alone."

She smiled softly. "_Indeed. But your heart- the heart that warned you of the inevitable turmoil that would ensue if the warlords and petty courtiers were allowed to continue fighting for England's crown- that heart still beats firmly and purely in your chest_."

Merlin's head ached. His vision of the Fates was coming to an end. "But what must I do for the Pendragon boy?"

The Fates, her image already blurring, did not answer the question Merlin had asked. Instead, she gently repeated the answer to the question Merlin had post to her thirty-four years before.

"_Fifty kings brought England toil. Fifty kings, not one true royal. Fifty years of the Sword in the Stone, till True King rises, his heart and mind his own. This One True King, who trumps them all, who weakens the mighty, shrinks great to small... So listen, watch, and wait; it's clear- the reign of the One True King draws near_."

The vision, as always, ended abruptly, and Merlin was back in the time and place that he should be, although he never left, and everything had returned to normal, even though nothing had really changed. Not for those around Merlin anyway... The appearances from the Fates were Merlin's to bear and Merlin's alone. It had been this way since he was a boy. But, even though he knew it was impossible, Merlin could have sworn that Morgana had seen or heard something. There was a change in her eyes, a difference in her pallor...

Merlin knew, whether Morgana had witnessed the Fates or not, he could not ignore the inner and inexplicable connection he had with the small girl. He would follow the Fates' instructions regarding the missing Pendragon heir, however unclear they seemed, and follow his heart regarding Morgana, however unclear his motives seemed.

But one thing was infinitely clear: both of the Pendragon children had great and unfathomable destinies ahead. Merlin could only wonder, as he studied the snowy-topped Camelot, if their paths would ever intersect...


End file.
